


I’m Innocent in This

by Evian_99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Hogwarts Founders Era, Loki (Marvel) is Salazar Slytherin, Loki shifts from male to female and back, Unorthodox ways to obtain castles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evian_99/pseuds/Evian_99
Summary: Hogwarts Founders-era. If asked, Loki would be adamant that they were doing what they had to. And it worked, didn’t it? They have a castle now.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel) & Godric Gryffindor, Loki (Marvel) & Helga Hufflepuff, Loki (Marvel) & Rowena Ravenclaw
Kudos: 12





	I’m Innocent in This

‘It’s like talking to a brick wall. We’re not going to get anywhere with this!’ With a loud groan of frustration, Godric drops himself onto the bed. It makes a dangerous creaking sound of protest as the weight of his armour put the springs to an ultimate test. ‘We’re doomed, I tell ya.’

Loki is sitting in the windowsill, not looking up from the courtyard he’s looking down upon. There is a legion of soldiers training just off the side to where merchants are selling their wares. He listens to Rowena’s voice, the amusement clear as day despite her words being measured as ever.

‘So cynical, Godric’, she says, and isn’t that ironic?

Watching a particularly fat man struggle with unloading a dozen or so cages with chickens, Loki cannot suppress the urge for a little mayhem. Smirking, he merely stares intensely at the tiny cage doors, willing them to open.

The chaos is delightful.

One of the chickens in all its panic even flutters its feathery wings straight into the face of a random lady of apparent high standing. Their shrieks are loud enough to reach them from afar, and not even the disapproving clicking noises from Helga can make him regret it. He turns his head to face her, gifting her his most charming smile.

Rowena continues, either not bothered or not aware of what he just did. ‘If you aren’t careful you will soon be sounding like dearest Sally.’

‘That’s called being realistic, thank you very much’, he injects. She is looking fierce in her modified gown. The armour is elegant and well crafted, a gift from her late father when he came to realise how he wouldn’t be able to protect her any longer.

She teases him right back, quipping: ‘You are more so a pessimist, but whatever floats your boat.’

Sighing like an exasperated mother, Helga gives them both an impassive look. ‘Hush it you two.’ She then pokes Godric with her wand. ‘Get up, you baby, we must discuss a new strategy.’

Loki feels pride flaring in his chest. How much she’s grown in the past few weeks. There’s no sign of the frightened witch he rescued from the stake.

‘We’ve come too far to admit defeat now.’ She looks like a proper leader—a warrior who could give his own mother a run for her money. Motioning them to sit at the table in the antechamber, she wordlessly dismisses the king’s servants from the room. They have a strategy to discuss.

Godric is the first to roll over and back onto his feet. His mood is making Loki narrow his eyes. It’s not at all like his friend to look so… downtrodden, almost. That last refusal must’ve hurt more than he’s letting on. But the reason is mystifying him, making the mage file it away for a later date.

‘That is true,’ the wizard pulls down his tunic, fixing it under his belt, ‘but not to bring down the mood any further, we have desperately little cards to play.’

‘Just sit, Godric’, Helga’s tone is strict, but not unkind. Though Loki believes her to be incapable of such an act. She’s the complete opposite of him. ‘I might have an idea.’ She looks positively delighted. As the foursome take their seats on the uncomfortable wooden chairs, Rowena pours them all a goblet of wine.

They can use the alcohol.

It is Helga who starts, as she seems to be the only one that still has inspiration to give outside of Loki’s proposal to secure their castle with force. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at women,’ she says, though at the enraged emotions that flare up in all of the others’ faces including his, she quickly shouts: ‘Not me!’

She sighs, pursing her lips and crossing her arms. ‘I don’t need anyone to protect my dignity. And besides,’ motioning at her body, ‘I’m not exactly what a man would find attractive.’

It pains him deeply that she seems to think that true. Fiercely before anyone has a chance to respond, Loki bursts out: ‘Don’t ever say that about yourself, Helga! You are absolutely beautiful.’ He hopes his face expresses how genuine he is in that belief. ‘And you’re beautiful from the inside and outside, and that is something very few can say.’

Wanting the heavy mood to dissipate, he quirks the right corner of his lips. ‘And y’all know I grew up in a court, so I’ve seen plenty enough ladies to make that judgement.’

It achieves the desired effect. Smiling with crinkled eyes, Helga swats at him, hitting him on the arm and almost knocking over the candelabra in the process. Her sitting opposite of him doesn’t particularly make it easy.

Rowena is also shaking her head. ‘Fool’, she mutters loud enough for him to hear.

Before they can start to try out sassing each other again, however, Godric suddenly speaks up. ‘I think you have something there.’ And in the waning sunlight, they all lean forward. ‘Now hear me out…’

‘… I still don’t quite see the appeal.’ Sitting on a fallen tree in a conjured period-style gown, Loki absently inspects her nails. Shifting between different genders comes easy as breathing to a shapeshifter like her. And while the male gender has been her preferred one these past two or so centuries, she hasn’t ever shied away from going out and about as female.

Not even the whispered insults behind her back could change that.

Rowena pats some balm made of beeswax onto Loki’s lips, her brows furrowed in concentration. The witch had told her that women don’t wear a lot of make-up here, and indeed it is far less than what Loki would’ve worn in Asgard. It feels refreshing, ever a believer in one’s natural beauty. In the tiny marks that make one unique.

‘Ya know, if you’d deepened,’ Godric awkwardly waves his hand over his chest, ‘well… that, you might have an easier time convincing him.’ He doesn’t do anything to block Helga’s slap. ‘What?’ he is quick to defend, ‘We all know his royal majesty is a simple man.’

‘Even so,’ the witch sniffs, ‘it’s rude.’

Loki laughs, causing Rowena to place her finger on the goddess’ chin instead of her bottom lip. ‘Just one second longer and I would’ve been finished.’

Doing her best to look contrite, but from Godric’s guffawing laugh knowing she is failing miserably, the mage gives her friend a soft: ‘Sorry.’ But the mischievous gleam in her poison green eyes disprove how genuine that excuse is. ‘I do feel very grateful, my dear, truly. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve been a right mess.’

Acceptably dolled up, she accepts Godric’s help to get back onto her feet. Her gown is an emerald green, richly adorned with golden embroidery. It is some of her best work—the ceaseless chatter with her courtiers in her youth proving to be useful.

The jewellery she is wearing, too, is fit for a queen, and fits perfectly with the lady Helena she will be impersonating. From what her friends told her, there is one persistent and widespread rumour of how said lady managed to get in higher favour than the northern king’s own wife.

Loki clasps her hands together. Frigga’s lessons in the ways a princess should behave are drilled into her. She was born to excel at this. ‘Well, my good knight,’ she says, looking right into the wizard’s eyes, ‘It seems time for me to return the favour. If you ever want to be worthy of protecting me, you will need to look the part.’

Her wide smirk is proof enough that she will make sure to relish every single second of it.

Then her eyes glide over the two other women, grin becoming impossibly wider. ‘You all need to. The lady Helena doesn’t surround herself with peasants.’ She stresses the last word, doing an admirable job at slipping into character. Making a move that would’ve thrown her hair over her shoulder if it wasn’t done up, she sniffs: ‘Besides, if I have to suffer, so do you.’

Godric merely raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. Then he bows, making a show of kissing the top of her hand. ‘Milady’s wish is my command.’

She snorts, pulling him right back up. The irony of the role reversal isn’t lost to her, but it is a layer the others will never notice without knowing the truth behind the Nordic myths.

‘Alright, alright,’ she laughs, ‘That’s quite enough play. We must try that transfiguration spell Rho was working on. If we want to sell this, I’ll need a carriage, at least four horses and a military escort.’

Loki feels suddenly nervous, starting to pace through the small clearing. This is their only chance of success if they don’t want to spill blood, and no matter how apathic she presents herself towards the idea, she doesn’t want to attract Heimdall’s attention.

‘The king wouldn’t allow the lady Helena to go out into the world without proper protection, so maybe we should transfigure more horses.’ With the transformation complete, their plan has suddenly gotten real. And Loki’s mind would’ve raced to even more what if-scenarios if it wasn’t for Helga’s steadying hand on her shoulder.

Despite having only known her for a few moon cycles, the woman has wormed her way deep within her heart. The smile she wears reminds her of Frigga and makes the pain of her betrayal flare up. She is so lost in her mind, that it isn’t until the motherly witch repeats herself that the words register.

‘Don’t worry, Sal, it will be okay. I know you’ll be brilliant.’

And isn’t that what she’s afraid of? There’s no knowing what will happen if this goes right, nor if it goes south. One thing she knows for sure, though: whatever happens, they must do a sneak visit to the real lady Helena to make her, and all with whom she’s in contact with, believe that she visited this particular king.

And then she curses. Loud, filthily, and decidedly unlike anything a lady would say. She groans: ‘This suddenly feels like a very stupid plan. Why are we doing this with such a high-profile person?’

Before the others can respond, however, she raises her hand: ‘No, don’t answer, I know why. Only want to take a moment to curse the hole we dug for ourselves.’

Her arrival into his bedroom was… not unexpected, but it does disappoint her just how easy it was to achieve. She only really had to ‘accidentally’ bump her hand against his during the banquet, make eye contact and flutter her lashes at the man.

How boringly easy.

Outside of Godric, she has sent her ‘entourage’ away. While the king is, ahem, preoccupied with her, Rowena and Helga can start with the tedious job of covering their tracks. They’ve been brilliant in their acts, Rowena doing a damn fine job as the lady’s strict chaperon and Helga being amazing as her sweet handmaid.

‘You know, your majesty’, she drawls. She takes special care in undoing her shawl as slowly as possible, revealing the diamond necklace underneath dipping into her décolleté. A devious smile curls her lips, relaying that she is fully aware of what she is doing to him.

Time to further play into his simplistic needs.

‘There aren’t many men that succeed in catching my eye.’ He hugs her from behind, making the mage tilt her head ever so slightly to give him better access.

Her voice drops an octave. ‘And even less who can truly satisfy me.’ It is said in a whisper and works like a charm. But before he has any chance to act on his dirty fantasies, Loki strikes.

Within the blink of an eye, she has him against the wall, a dagger at his throat. ‘Now listen,’ she hisses, morphing back into her male persona, ‘You will sign over the rights to this castle, and you will never speak a word of this.’

Pressing his lips millimetres away from the other’s ear, Loki breathes: ‘Or I will ruin you.’ Then he releases him. The king falls onto the ground, shaking, but too shocked to even think about calling for his guards.

Not that they would come. Unlike Thor, Godric is competent like that.

The mage points at the table where his fellow magic-user has already readied the quill. And when Helga will undoubtedly ask him whether this all was truly necessary; he will just feign ignorance and tell her that it got them the desired result.

They have a castle now.


End file.
